


A Holmesian Wedding

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Monologue, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Sibling Incest, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have an unofficial wedding with their parents and their friends in Angelo's restaurant. And everybody gives a speech after they had made their vows.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 18
Kudos: 108





	1. Vows And Speeches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts).



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“ _My Sherlock. My brother. My… dare I say husband? I can’t put a ring onto your finger. You would have to take it off as soon as you go out there anyway. But I can give you something else: my heart. My love. And always: my protection.”_

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Their father was the first one to get onto the improvised podium. The room – a part of Angelo’s restaurant that was given to groups of guests who required privacy, and when had this been more important than today? – was small and there were not even a dozen people in it, so there was no need for a microphone.

Siger Holmes smiled at the remarkable group of guests, sitting at two long tables. At his beloved wife of almost fifty years. And, of course, at the two protagonists of this special occasion.

He cleared his throat. “Well, wow. I’m the first! That’s an honour. My wife sent me up here. Don't worry, boys – you’ll only have to endure one speech of your tottery old parents. And it’s up to me to deliver it as your mother is too shy. Don’t laugh! Well, to be honest, the real reason is that she would cry buckets and buckets and nobody would understand her. Don't look at me like that, Violet, you know it’s true. Oh-oh. Seems I’m going to pay for that. Look how she’s glowering at me. Sherlock has that from her. Beware, Mycroft. Well, that’s silly. You should know that better than anyone else. And of course, Sherlock is looking at you in a very different way these days, eh?

It’s amazing, really. The paths life can take. Mine led me to the most beautiful and the smartest woman in the universe. She made me the happiest sod of all, and she gave me those two handsome sons. And yes. A daughter. Who can’t be here today for reasons. Her path has led her astray, and we couldn’t do anything to prevent that. Yes, yes, sorry, Vi.

The paths of our sons have been extraordinary. Mycroft, we are so proud of you. You’ve come so far, are so powerful. You never really told us what you actually do as it is such a secret. But you are working with our PM so that says it all, I suppose. The Cabinet Office!

And Sherlock – you’re famous. A famous detective. Using your deduction powers as you call it to help the police and other people who would be lost without your cleverness. Amazing.

There were some dark times for you. And for us, who have witnessed them. You even had to pretend you’re dead for two long years, and we are very grateful, your mother and I, that you told us that you were pretty much alive. You almost died when someone shot at you once you were back, and we only recently got to know who that was, and believe me, your mother was livid. No offence meant, Doctor Watson. But you know – these are our children.

Anyway. Through all those dark times, you had one constant in your life, Sherlock, besides your mother and me. Your brother. Your relationship wasn’t always very good. In fact, we sometimes despaired at how troubled it was. But then, then your paths led you to each other in a most spectacular way. You went through some darkness together, inflicted by no other than your own sister. And God, we gave you a hard time for that, Mycroft, I hope you can forgive us. But it brought you together in a way brothers usually don't find one another.

Was it a shock? Oh yes. It taught us to never show up unannounced at your doorstep, Mycroft. It was quite the surprise when we saw Sherlock sneak out of the back door. Pretty clumsy for a detective, right, son? And pretty revealing. Because why would you have to hide having visited your brother if not for a delicate reason? And Mycroft – he blushed so hard.

You are all laughing now but it was something to wrap our old minds around, I can tell you. But my wife was the voice of reason again. She dragged me into Mycroft's kitchen and asked me, _‘Who else should it be for either of them?’_ She was right of course, as usual. Neither of you had ever brought someone home. We hadn’t thought that we would ever see either of you getting married. We knew we would never get grandchildren as we hadn’t missed that you’re both gay. And I never minded. Why would I? It’s who you are and how you are, and how you are is awesome.

Well, I won’t go on and on forever, don’t fret. Let me just say that I’m immensely happy for you as I can see that you are making each other very, very happy. And that’s all that counts, right? Seeing your children happy, especially children who never seemed to possess a very cheerful disposition. But in the two years since you’ve started your life together, you both changed a lot. You were always great, don’t get me wrong, but now you’re also very happy, and… God, that’s embarrassing. Sorry. Is that a tear? Yeah, it is. But I guess I’m allowed to shed a tear at my sons’ wedding, right? When if not today? Anyway. Your mother and I wish you all the luck in the world. You deserve it. Thank you for your attention. And now I need a glass of water, if you could be so kind, Angelo? And thanks for the awesome dinner, by the way. So nice of you to let the party happen in your restaurant.”

Siger patted the chubby man’s shoulder and received an enthusiastic pat in return that almost made him tumble. Grinning, the elderly man walked back to his seat and was hugged by his sons and smacked on his behind by his wife, and he continued to grin like a fool.

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“ _You were always my protector, Mycroft. I didn’t really thank you for it for a very long time but this is past now. I love you to pieces, and my future belongs to you.”_

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John Watson, looking dapper in his new grey suit, took a sip of his water before he walked over to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, grooms…” He grinned. “You once gave the most remarkable best-man-speech anyone has ever received, Sherlock. I’m afraid I can’t live up to your example. Right, nobody can live up to you anyway. Well, one person can. It’s the man you’ve married today. I wish… I wish Mary was here to witness this. She would have loved it. Not conservative at all she was.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Damn memories. Hitting him when he needed them the least. He immediately pulled himself together again. This wasn’t the time and the place for grief and regrets. This was a day of joy.

“There is no priest here today, which is probably for the best, considering what you said to the one who married Mary and me. Calling God a ‘ _ludicrous fantasy, designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.’_ Yes, you are laughing now, but I was pretty much like, _‘No, he did_ not _just say that.’_

Society is not ready for a love like yours. Well, fuck society, I say. Sorry, Mrs Holmes, Mrs Hudson. Shall I say sorry to you, too, Molly? Anthea? Ah, thought so. Anyway. Your dad just said it was a shock for them to discover your relationship. Well, ask me! I walked in on them! Now that was a sight to behold, I can tell you… No, I know you were not exactly shagging on the couch, Sherlock… Sorry! But really, if your tongue had been in Mycroft's throat any deeper, you would have been licking his tonsils. No, I’m not drunk but I plan to be later tonight, thanks for asking, Greg.

Anyway. I keep losing the thread. I’m happy for you. Course I am. You are the best friend anyone could wish for, Sherlock. I wasn’t, for quite some time. I did some things I can only shake my head about now. You forgave me, and I’ll be forever grateful for it. And also for you to not have me kidnapped again, Mycroft, and this time to let me disappear somewhere… I’m sure you were tempted. Yes? Yeah, thought so… Rest assured – I’ll never do it again. Want to keep my head, as little handsome as it is these days. And of course – I want to keep you as friends.

You are perfect for each other. Totally and utterly perfect. I mean hardly anyone understands half of what you’re saying, and I don’t even mean the deductions. You’re so far beyond us mortals it’s not funny. What would either of you have done with someone else? And I mean, look at you… Handsome, the pair of you, especially today, I mean, look at those matching tuxedos. Thought Sherlock would show up as the bride to be honest. Would have looked dapper in a white dress. No, not throwing anything at me, please! It’s not fair, you know. So good-looking _and_ so smart. Cold, people call you. Nonsense. You’re not. You’re both kittens. Ah, Sherlock, Mr _I-Don’t-Have-Friends_ who does everything for his friends. And the cool, bad government bighead – you’re not, not if it comes to Sherlock. Look at you. How you are looking at him. As if he was the most precious creature on earth. He is, though.

Except for my daughter, of course; she’s my sunshine. It’s a shame she can’t be here – she’s staying with my sister. Too dangerous to bring her, to let her know that you are not just brothers. She’s three years old and of course she would accept it. She loves her Uncle Sherlock, and like cats are drawn to people who fear them, she’s drawn to Mycroft, too. Ha, look how he’s blushing! Anyway, Rosie… She wouldn’t understand that she’s supposed to tell the truth about everything else – but should lie about two brothers who are much more than that. In about twenty years, we might be safe to tell her, right?

Who are so good for each other but would face big problems if the wrong people got to know about it. I know it makes you sad. You don’t give a damn what people think about you. But I bet you’d love to walk hand in hand out there sometimes, but you can’t. Not saying that to spoil the mood, mind you. I just want to say that it’s so unfair – society condemning your love. Stupid laws, made by stupid people, if you ask me. There should be exceptions for people like you, hell, at least for you two. You are the perfect match, not exactly _despite_ being brothers but _because_ you’re brothers. Two of a kind. And you can be assured that nobody in this room will ever betray you. Not that anyone would survive that anyway… The mighty king of the cellars of Whitehall and the reckless detective. Not exactly the people I’d like to piss off. Sorry! Language!

We are here today to celebrate your love. We had a fantastic meal, thank you again, Angelo. And I’ve heard there will be cake, later on. No grinning, Sherlock! It’s a wonderful day and I’m sure I’m speaking for everybody in this room when I say that we love you and wish for you to be happy. You work so hard to make this country a better place, both of you, in your own way and probably for different reasons, but anyway, you deserve all the happiness you could possibly get. Thank you.” He stepped from the podium with a wave, grinning at the applause.

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“ _I’ve always loved you. Since the day you were born. When was this other dimension added to the brotherly feelings? I can’t really say. It grew on me. Slowly. I don’t think I already felt like that in the dark days of your adolescence, when boredom and your ever-demanding brain got the better of you and made you succumb to chemical distractions. It was so hard to see you suffer. So damn hard to find you on the verge of death more than once. I might not have loved you in the way I love you now, but even then I knew I couldn’t go on without you. I don’t want to be without you ever again.”_

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Mrs Hudson downed her champagne before she proceeded to get up to deliver her speech. They had said she could do it while sitting on her chair but she had waved that away. She was old, yes, but still quite able to walk a few steps and stand for a couple of minutes, thank you very much.

She giggled when she heard some wolf-whistling. “Sherlock, you silly boy. No. You’re not. Silly I mean. Not just because you’re our smart detective who can tell a man’s profession by the way he uses his handkerchief. Don't laugh – I’ve seen him do it! I’ve seen him do basically everything – shoot the wall, cook up things that smelled worse than a thirteen-year-old boy’s socks after three weeks on his feet, come back from the dead… I’ve seen him excited about a case, many cases actually. I’ve seen him bored out of his mind and ready to crawl up the wall, backwards. But I have never seen him as happy as he is today.

I won’t lie – I always thought it would be John. Yes, I know you’re not gay, John. I didn’t miss all the women you brought home – and most of them left fairly quickly when Sherlock had thrown some unflattering deductions at them. I thought that John was, let’s say Holmessexual and that Sherlock was jealous of his girlfriends. But eventually I realised that it wasn’t jealousy but the unwillingness to share John’s attention – don’t scowl at me, young man, you know I’m right! And then Sherlock died, oh God, my heart just broke… Yes, you said sorry many times, my dear. But I will never forget this gruesome time and all those lies about you that nobody in their right mind could have believed. And John disappeared, too, and when he came back, he was about to marry. And then Sherlock came back too, and he was not happy about that and again I thought he might suffer from unrequited love… Well, I know now it was just because you thought you had lost John as a friend. You had not though, but… I’ve seen you at the wedding. You looked so lonely. And I thought – who on earth can be the one for this extraordinary man?

So many things happened then. It ended in a tragedy – and another fallout of my dear boys. And then Sherlock was injured, and you, Mr Holmes, came to search his flat while he was at the hospital. I was quite ghastly to you that day. Thinking you were cold and didn’t understand your brother. I called him a ‘reptile’, I admit it. I was pretty silly thinking that. As John said – you’re a kitten, just like Sherlock. Everything you did that day you did out of worry and concern. You were always worried about him, and not without reason I might add. Especially at this time, when he’d been taking drugs again. Yes. It was for a case. I know. But you still looked awful, Sherlock. I was so afraid you could finally drown – and if _I_ was afraid, I can’t even imagine how you must have felt, Mr Holmes.

Mycroft? You want me to call you -… Oh. Thank you. But then you and Sherlock must call me Martha. You too, John. Ah, everybody here can call me Martha. Where was I? Oh, yes. You were worried. And then, not much later, the flat exploded. My God. The noise! I’m so glad nobody got injured. And then… you went there, with John. And you must have had some truly horrible hours. Sherlock was so devastated when he came back.

And he changed. He’d been changing all the time, ever since I’d met him. Meeting his friends had changed him. All the good and the bad things that happened did so. And after this, he was hardly at home anymore. I know he visited his sister very often at this point. And he also visited his brother… You never told me how it happened, well, of course not. It’s no nosy old woman’s business how you fell in love. But I saw that you were changing again. You looked… relaxed and positive when you returned from seeing him. I could always tell when you had gone seeing your sister and when it had been your brother. And then, one day, Mycroft came along, and we had tea. And there was one look from him at Sherlock and then I knew it.

Did it shock me? Not one bit. I knew at once that my question had been answered – the question who could be the one Sherlock could love. Really – there wasn’t anybody else. Not even John, no offence meant, my dear.

I told Sherlock that I had figured it out when we were alone. He was horrified. But of course I made very clear that I would support them in any way they needed. And to be here now, to have heard your touching vows to each other, it feels so right. You two belong together. You will be watching over one another, just like it should be. It is an honour to spend this day with you, and I just know you will have a wonderful future together. No, I’m not crying, dear. And even if I was, I’d have every right to do it.

On a pleasant evening and on a bright future for our favourite brothers!”

Accompanied by enthusiastic clapping, she returned to her seat, and she was welcomed by two Holmes brothers kissing her cheek and thanking her for her words, and she smiled and patted their muscular arms, and she allowed herself a moment of imagining how their wedding night would be.

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“ _I promise you that I will always take good care of myself now – the days of relentless recklessness are over for me. Well, I won’t only sit in my chair and read books from now on; I will still work on cases. But I will make sure that I won’t add another scar to my already impressive collection. I want to get old. With you by my side. I will take care of myself, and I will take care of you. Because you’re my one and only, Mycroft. My big brother, my friend, my partner, my lover.”_

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Angelo was beaming at everybody when he strode towards the podium, looking appreciatively at the rich decoration he had put onto the tables. Candles, mostly, some of them looking like intertwined swans – his own creation.

“Hello everybody! I can’t say how chuffed I am that you are all here, especially our darlings groom and groom. That you allowed me to provide the meals and beverages for your special day. And that cheque was sent right back to you, Mycroft. No, no discussions. I’m not taking money for my dear Sherlock's wedding. I owe this man my life! He cleared me of a murder charge. Yeah, I do know we don’t have a death penalty in England, thank you, Greg. But me in a prison cell? God, no. I was glad I hadn’t had to serve time for the theft. Never did anything illegal anymore. Hehe, yeah, except for today. Illegal, my arse! Look at them! Look how much in love they are! If this is illegal, then fuck the law. Oh, sorry. Won’t happen again. But really – if anyone can give me a good reason why those two shouldn’t be together, go ahead! Like in the church, you know? When I got married, my wife’s relatives had plenty to say… Well, tough chance!

Yeah, like Mrs Hudson – no, Martha, apologies! – I thought John was the man of Sherlock's heart. He had never been here with anybody else after all. But I realised pretty quickly that this wouldn’t happen – the doc showed up here with quite a few women. Not at the same time, hehe. I was pretty sad; I mean, people are not meant to be alone. Especially not such handsome people as our Sherlock. Ha, no need to get all coy, mate.

And then, one day, the other Mr Holmes dropped by to get some pasta for his little brother. He was ill, our Sherlock. Had two cracked ribs, and Mycroft wanted to bring him dinner. Oh, I knew it at once! The way he said Sherlock's name! This was not a brother’s love, ladies and gentlemen. I can see romance when it stares me in the face! I visited Sherlock the next day, bringing him my famous lasagne, and asked him about it. Not shy, me. And I needed to know that I was right. One look at him and I knew that I was.

I was so happy for him! And I could stop worrying about him. I knew him in the best of hands. A man like me, dealing with all kinds of people every day, knows people. And I knew that Mycroft was good for him. Would look after him. A romantic, that’s what I am. I cried when you made your vows, boys! They were beautiful. _You_ are beautiful, too, the two of you. Meant for each other. God made you brothers so you wouldn’t miss each other; that’s what I think.

Well, that’s all I have to say. Be happy. Be in love.

Who wants a cappuccino? Hot chocolate? Tea? On the way! And the cake will be brought in in fifteen minutes!”

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“ _There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Sherlock. Absolutely nothing.”_

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The dark-haired woman in the tight, green dress made her way to the podium, well aware of the stares that were accompanying her, coming from John Watson and DI Greg Lestrade. Her real name was unknown to everybody in the room but the happy couple. For all the others she was going by the name ‘Anthea’, Mycroft Holmes’ irreplaceable assistant.

She smiled at everybody in the room. “It’s great to be here. Thank you for inviting me. Thank you for the marvellous dinner and the most sinful cake I’ve ever had the pleasure to eat. I can take some home? Oh, I will absolutely remind you of that later.

It is indeed very special for me to have been invited to this unofficial but nonetheless absolutely meaningful occasion. The wedding of the two most remarkable men I ever had the fortune to meet. One of them I’ve admired for nearly ten years. Sorry? Oh, well, thank you. You should see me without makeup… Anyway. Sir is the best boss anyone could wish for. Oh, he is strict. He never misses a mistake, and he has no problem to reprimand people who failed. But he is always fair. And smart. Oh so smart. I have always looked up to you, sir, and I don’t say that to get a gratification – even though such things never go amiss…

Joke aside – I love working for this man. I respect him. Admire him. And that’s why I had taken a strong dislike to the man he has married today. I can see that this shocks you. But let me tell you – Sherlock was quite the brat in dealing with his brother and now also husband. He even sent him back to the office with an injured arm once – but yes, he was high when he twisted it. But he also made my boss unhappy on many other occasions. And after one of them, sir broke down at his desk and, between the lines but clear enough, told me he loved his brother – in a very unbrotherly way. Well, that did not come as a surprise to me at all. I’d known that for a long while. But seeing him so unhappy at this point – I was close to going over to Baker Street and giving someone a proper tongue-lashing.

I can see you think I’m a party pooper. But I always say it as it is. In my working environment, dishonesty is a virtue, but that doesn’t apply to my character. And in the end, things changed. Massively. After this horrible day in the prison, my boss’s mood gradually got better. Until he was grinning from ear to ear when he received a text. Of course I couldn’t know for sure who had sent them. But there was no doubt for me – there is nobody else who could make him smile like this. Who had so much influence on his mood, whose opinion mattered so much. He was not a man who suffered from unrequited love anymore. He was a man seriously in love with someone who returned his feelings. Naturally, he caught me looking at him and admitted it, to my surprise, but then – of course he had deduced that I had understood, and he knows he can trust me unconditionally.

Well, of course I was suspicious of these developments at first. I feared that it could be a spur of the moment thing for Sherlock. I feared that he would break his brother’s heart.

But he didn't. And I know he won’t. Because the first time I saw them together – Sherlock had dropped by at the office – I could see that he was every bit as much in love as sir. In fact, he seemed to admire the ground he was walking on, and rightly so, as I might add. I was blown away by the genuineness of his feelings. And over the moon, I can tell you. I might have been tempted to launch him into outer space many times in the past but from that moment on, I was… enchanted. I felt like a girl who reads fanfiction and ships some fictional characters. Sorry? No, I’m not going to answer this question. A woman is allowed to have secrets… But really – they are amazingly cute together. Oh, Sherlock, save the glowering for someone who is afraid of you. You know I could have you on your back within two seconds. Your brother doesn’t just pay me for making tea and scaring the morons away.

This is, without exaggeration, the happiest day of my life. I never thought I would see this happening – my dear boss getting married to the one man he had fallen for such a long time ago, and who made him so unhappy just to fulfil his every wish now. I’m not a romantic at heart. But those two give me all the feels, as they say. And these vows… They could have melted a stone. Let’s raise our glasses and wish them the happiest future anyone could have. They deserve it.”

And after drinking from her glass with champagne – her second and last one; the woman whose name wasn’t Anthea believed in soberness – she went back to her place but stopped at the two grooms, who took her hand respectively hugged her, and she smiled against Sherlock's shoulder when she hugged him back.

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“ _Nobody could have wished for a better big brother. And nobody could wish for a better husband.”_

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Molly Hooper’s fingers were playing nervously with the collar of her black dress. She wished she had been wearing a necklace to distract her slightly shivering digits.

“I’m not used to talking to so many people,” she admitted. “Yes, I know nobody’s going to bite me, thank you, Mrs Hudson. Martha! Sorry! Um… Wow. First of all, thanks for inviting me, and for this amazing dinner and, you know, if you offered some of the cake for me to take home, I wouldn’t say no. Oh, thank you, Sherlock!

I… I cried when you made your vows. I suppose you’d noticed. Well… God… For so long, I hoped… it could be me. Marrying Sherlock. I know it was stupid. You never encouraged me. Well, you did say some strange things, like before you told me you needed me to find that corpse that had to look like you. I mean, I asked you what you needed, and you just said, _‘You.’_ Well, turned out you just needed another dead body. Oh, I don’t blame you. You always knew how to manipu-..., how to make people do what you want. And I always loved helping you. I always… Well, you know it. Everybody knows it… Even before this… phone call. Which was not your fault, I know. You just wanted to save me. Which didn’t make it better, I mean, if you wanted to save me, it had to mean I’m important to you, right? Not like that, though. I know that now. Finally. Just took me some years… But… I didn't want to see it after this… phone call.

And then… You changed. Suddenly you were staring at your phone, and smiling! Just like Anthea just said about your brother. Of course I had no idea who you were writing with. And it drove me mental. I mean, it was hurting me that you had found someone else, obviously. And it became an obsession to find out who it was. What does she have that I don’t? Such stupid questions were nagging at me. I mean, yeah, I thought she would have big… breasts and full lips and all that. You liked to mock me for not having either. Not lately though. And so… That evening, you were in the morgue, and you got a text again. And you tried to hide it but I could see that it was from… this person you loved. And you dropped everything and left, while I was in the middle of explaining something to you, about this corpse. And I followed you.

Well, you are laughing but… It was like a bad film. I told the cab driver to follow the other cab. I could only just see you disappear in the house. I should have let it rest. But of course I had to know. Sometimes we do like to punish ourselves, don’t we? Well, maybe it’s just me...  
So… I walked around the house as there was no name at the door and I had no idea who lived there. I wanted to look into a window. And the alarm went off, I found out a minute later. I didn’t hear anything but suddenly, Sherlock was standing in front of me. And next to him… I had met his brother before. When Sherlock identified that corpse of that woman who… Anyway. They stared at me, and I felt like a… bug or something. Your look was rather… icy, Mr Holmes. As if you thought of disposing me somewhere. Guess you did indeed… And Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes and asked if I could keep a secret. Well, for me it wasn’t a secret anymore.

It freed me. I mean, I know I’m not really pretty and besides working, I don’t do much. Watch silly films and stuff. But if it had been another woman, I would have felt devastated, even if I would have understood that you’d rather be with someone… prettier, and more interesting. But who could have competed with your own brother? A man, and what kind of man? He’s like you. He is handsome, super smart and… powerful.

I still… like you very much. But I finally buried all hope you could love me. And it’s fine. You’re my friend and I’m happy you invited me. You two… are so sweet together. No, really, you are. And you have changed so much, Sherlock. You’re nicer, and calmer, and this nervous energy… It’s gone. He is good for you and I’m glad.

That was a horrible speech; I basically talked about myself all the time, sorry. If there is a summary to what I said, something that makes sense, it is that I’m happy for you. I don’t care if it’s forbidden and if people would think it’s icky or something. It’s not. You are great together and I wish you all the luck on earth. That’s it, thanks.”

And Molly hurried back to her place, and she could see the sympathy in the others’ eyes and she hoped that one day she would be the one to get married. One could always hope…

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“ _I promise to love you forever, Sherlock. That’s an easy promise anyway since I have always done it. Whatever you need, whatever might get in your way – be assured that I will be there to do whatever I can to help you, to support you and to make you feel loved and cherished.”_

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

With a smile, Greg Lestrade walked to the podium. Everybody could see that he was not nervous in the least. “Well, hello everybody. You are all arrested for committing or supporting incest. Ha, if looks could kill, Sherlock. Let an old man make a joke for God’s sake. Not my division, huh?

It was never a question. Never a problem. Actually, I felt like sinking to my knees and thanking a god – in which to believe in had gotten harder with every year working on solving murders, I can tell you – for bringing those two together. That surprises you, Mrs Holmes? Well, I just knew Sherlock needed his brother. I had always known that. Fine, I wouldn’t have thought of an incestuous relationship before but when I realised that that’s what it was, I thought, _‘even better.’_ I’d seen this lad, Sherlock, go through so much… shit; let’s speak it out. I saw him drugged to the hairline, more dead than alive in hospital beds after getting shot. Saw him after he’d just escaped the hands of a serial killer – and the thrashing by his best friend. And yes – I did tell you off, John, didn't I? If you do it again, you won’t need Mycroft to get back at you… Yeah, right, you better not, lad.

He was lost, our Sherlock. For much longer than he will ever admit.

And Mycroft? He almost despaired at it. Whenever we met in a hospital room, he seemed to be more desperate, more hopeless. Pale like Sherlock's sheets, he was. And when Sherlock opened his eyes, he insulted him. It was a pain to watch and listen to. You were both lost, boys, bottom line.

And so I almost fist-pumped the air when I stepped into Baker Street that one day and saw them sitting opposite of each other, Mycroft's suit ever-so-slightly crumpled and his hair not quite as neat as usual. And there was a swelling to Sherlock's lips and a tiny hint of embarrassment in his eyes. Oh, they’d thought I wouldn’t figure it out. They think only they can do deductions. But I might have learned a thing or two from Sherlock over the years. And I immediately confronted them. Asked them if they had been making out when Mrs Hudson had let me in. Oh, you should have seen them blush. It was amazing. But they seriously thought I’d cause them trouble. Ridiculous! Even if I was such a horrible person to even consider that – I’m sure Mycroft would have taken care of me discreetly. Oh, no, don’t deny it. You didn't get where you are now for being nice. I’m sure you’re very nice to your Sherlock. You always were, even when he was frankly ghastly to you. And now? To be a fly on the wall, right, Mrs Hudson? Anthea? John? Hehe!

Well, let’s pinpoint it down to what others have said before me – you belong together. You’re equals, you’re totally meant for each other, and be assured – if you ever need any help, no matter in which regard, I’m your man. Sherlock, you saved my… behind a thousand times. You faked your death and went on a mission that could have proven fatal for you for real to protect me and John and Mrs Hudson. I owe you much more than I could ever pay you back. I will always have your back, and the same goes for your brother, who probably does more for this country than any of our incompetent elected politicians; don’t get me started on them.

I did have a tear in my eye at your vows, especially because I know how seriously you meant them. Go for it, boys. Everybody in this room will be on your side, whatever happens. I’m sure that with your combined cleverness, you can solve every problem but still… We’ll be there for you if push comes to shove. And I hope you’ll enjoy your wedding night. Ah, I bet you will.”

And with this, detective inspector Greg Lestrade went back to the others, and he hugged both brothers Holmes.

And for two more hours, the unusual love of the brothers Holmes and their unofficial wedding was celebrated some more. There were lots of embraces and kisses on cheeks when they parted, and finally, Mycroft and Sherlock slipped onto the back seat of a black limousine to be brought to Mycroft's house for the rest of this memorable night.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

“ _Thank you for always being there for me, Mycroft. I love you with all my heart and I won’t let anything come between us. It’s you and me, forever.”_

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


	2. The Wedding Night

“Thank God for your flawless alarm system, brother. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with a bed full of roses with thorns or something even nastier…”

“Yes, who knows what your friends would have thought of,” Mycroft agreed.

Sherlock had hardly been able to not hold onto Mycroft's hand all evening. Had linked his fingers with his when they had been kissing on the backseat all the way to Mycroft's house and only reluctantly let go of him when they had gotten out and bidden the driver goodnight. Sherlock wondered what the middle-aged man who had been driving his brother for many years had thought about them, wearing their matching tuxedos. That they had attended a party? Or had he guessed right? It was impossible to say as this man had learned to school his expressions in a most impressive way, making it impossible even for Sherlock to deduce him. In any way, he would never voice his suspicions. He knew what was good for him…

“Thank you,” he said quietly now. He was well aware that this evening had mostly been for him. Mycroft had indulged him, like he had indulged him all his life. His brother wouldn’t have needed this pseudo wedding. Had certainly not been keen on dealing with all those people, who were mostly Sherlock's friends even though Mycroft had become part of his Baker Street/Yard/St.Bart’s family over the past two years more and more. One by one, people had found out about them in one way or another – and that they had all accepted them was like a miracle to Sherlock. This evening had been a way to thank them for their support. And of course, above all, it had been meant to show his brother how much he loved him, and Mycroft had agreed on doing it for the same reason.

And they had both been close to crying when they had made their vows, and Sherlock had almost lost it again and some of his friends’ touching words. While they had been listening to them delivering their speeches, some very eloquent, some rather clumsy but all genuine, Sherlock had been holding on to his brother’s hand, and now, when they were standing in Mycroft's bedroom, kissing lovingly, he wondered if he was able to let go of him long enough to undress.

“It was my pleasure,” Mycroft smirked, letting his free hand slide over Sherlock's back. “Sappiness was allowed to rule tonight.”

“Do you mind terribly?”

Mycroft kissed his nose. “Not at all. It was rather pleasant. They do like you all very much.”

“Not just me, brother. And you heard your PA. She wanted to roast me alive.”

Mycroft chuckled. “She didn't quite say that. But yes, probably. But now I guess she’d rather be here, watching us.”

“That would go a tad too far. You’re all mine, husband.” Sherlock smiled when Mycroft pressed him close at that.

“It really feels like it, doesn’t it?” mused the older man. “You and me – together for good.”

“As it should be.” Sherlock reluctantly disentangled himself from him. “It’s time to consummate our marriage, big brother.”

“Ooh, the best part of this night for sure. We should have waited though. Should have gone into this night as virgins.”

Sherlock snorted. “You weren’t a virgin when we got together anyway. Bit late for that. And I wouldn’t have wanted to wait for one more minute when I finally had you where I needed you.”

“You mean pinned to the couch?” Mycroft grinned. “You were quite eager if I remember correctly.”

“You do. And nothing has changed about that. Come on. No dawdling. No matter how dapper you’re looking in your fancy suit, I need you naked now.” John had filmed them making their vows with Sherlock's phone, and Greg had done lots of pictures with Mycroft's. Sherlock knew he would never get tired of watching it all. Not that he hadn’t it all stored in his mind palace as well. But with the real footage he would be able to watch himself – not out of vanity but to see how happy he had been today.

Mycroft tousled his hair. “And naked you shall have me.”

“Best words that were ever spoken.”

“I love you, Sherlock.”

“God, I love you, too.”

And the brothers and now also husbands Holmes crashed together for another, not quite so tender kiss, and now Sherlock couldn’t hold Mycroft's hand any longer as he was busy fumbling with his buttons, and he felt way too impatient for fumbling with them single-handedly. They had expressed their love for each other in decidedly sappy words today. Now it was time to show it in a completely different and very naughty manner.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

It began with kissing, extended, passionate, literally breath-taking kissing, as it always started. But Mycroft would have lied if he had denied that it felt different this time. In the end, there was something to getting married, as unofficial and without legal force as it might have been. It had meant more to him than he had anticipated, and to see how much it meant to Sherlock had made his knees go all weak.

There might have been a time when he had thought that his feelings for Sherlock made him weak. But now he knew that it was quite the opposite. Loving someone and being there for him in whichever way made you stronger, not weaker. Sherlock loving him back was the greatest gift he had ever received.

He had loved Sherlock this way for a very long time when they had gone to Sherrinford. And after the horrific events of this day, they had finally buried the hatchet and gotten closer with every passing week, and one day, he had realised how Sherlock was looking at him, how much his brother searched for body contact, disguised as accidental touching.

He would never forget their first kiss. And every other kiss that had followed. And the kisses they were sharing now would be imprinted on his soul forever as well.

When Sherlock’s hands took to grab his shoulders rather desperately, he pulled away with a smile, earning a growl from his brother, which turned into a purr when he immediately began to nibble his way down on Sherlock's long neck. While his hands were caressing soft, smooth skin, he worked over Sherlock's collarbones and then turned his attention to his small, dark nipples. He loved sucking and licking those little nubs, turning them into hard peaks and letting his tongue roll around them. It drove Sherlock nuts, and his frantic wriggling made Mycroft smile, and he winked at his brother and husband when he kissed his plane stomach now, enjoying the play of the prominent muscles beneath his lips.

His hand found Sherlock's warm, silky cock and he lazily stroked up and down on it while licking into his brother’s navel. His thumb wiped over the slip every few strokes and got away wet every time.

Sherlock was panting heavily now. “Suck me, brother; do it now, or I’ll report you to any human rights organisation I know of.”

Mycroft chuckled. “That can’t be too many, my misanthropic darling,” he teased before he indulged his beloved by closing his lips around the dark-red, engorged crown, letting his tongue tickle the wrinkled skin of his fraenulum.

Sherlock moaned in his deep voice, and that sound made Mycroft's cock get unbearably hard. He loved to tease his brother and prolong his pleasure, but right now he died for burying his member into Sherlock's alluring passage.

The older brother grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Sherlock's lush behind. Mycroft loved licking and biting the generous cheeks for hours but if he did that now, Sherlock would certainly get grumpy, and besides, Mycroft really wanted to be in him as soon as possible.

There was no way of doing that so quickly though. “Get your legs up, would you?” Mycroft told him and chuckled when Sherlock lifted his legs so eagerly that he almost kicked Mycroft in the face. “Easy, brother. Patience is a virtue.”

“And big brothers who don’t know how to put their mouths to better use than blathering are a menace!” hissed Sherlock.

They looked at each other – and then they both started to laugh. Such insults had not been meant seriously for years now, and they enjoyed bickering as foreplay immensely. Sometimes Mycroft even thought that it was a shame that they didn't have to deceive any of Sherlock's friends anymore. Fake bickering in front of them had been quite amusing.

Of course, Mycroft enjoyed burying his tongue in Sherlock's pink hole even more. Spreading Sherlock's globes apart, he watched the heftily twitching entrance for a moment, delighted by the sight, before he plunged his face into the cleft and began rimming him, making Sherlock yowl in pleasure.

Slurping and drooling, Mycroft lapped away, taking his job of preparing his brother for his generously proportioned penis very seriously. He loved tasting him, smelling his balls, having him at his mercy like this. His own balls were heavy, swollen and eager to spill their load. What a primitive urge this was – Mycroft had hardly ever bothered with sex before he and Sherlock had finally gotten together like this. But he was gladly a primitive if he was just allowed to bury his cock and shoot his semen deep inside his brotherly lover.

“Please,” begged Sherlock eventually, pulling at Mycroft's left ear unconsciously. “Fuck me now!”

“Such language. It’s appalling,” drawled Mycroft, looking up to him between his legs.

“Don’t say anything about fucking manners into me now, I _beg_ you. Just _do_ it!”

Mycroft got up and sighed. “Marriage didn't make you any more patient, did it?”

“Did you seriously expect that?”

“Not really. Fine then. Ah, where did I put the lube?” mused Mycroft, chuckling when a pillow was unceremoniously thrown at his head. Ah, such pleasures. Fun and sex – they belonged together most certainly.

But when he finally sank into Sherlock – missionary style, their eyes locked – he felt too focused and excited and touched to tease his lover any longer, and he bent down to claim Sherlock's wonderful lips and began to make love to him in a careful, steady rhythm.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Someone must have set his groin and arse on fire; there was no other explanation. His cock, trapped between their bodies now, was close to bursting, and Sherlock felt so many emotions at once that he feared for a moment that he would go crazy. He was sweating profoundly when he was clutching to Mycroft's neck, urging him to kiss him deeper, to fuck him deeper. His muscular legs were slung around his brother’s body, just giving him enough space to move in him. He couldn’t be close enough to him, and if Sherlock had only had the chance, he would have crawled under his brother’s skin.

“More,” he brought out, urging Mycroft on by kicking his arse with his heels.

Mycroft chuckled against his cheek but he did increase the pace and depth of his strokes, reducing Sherlock to a needy, shivering mess.

It was over way too soon when Mycroft cleverly changed the angle of penetration and began to stimulate Sherlock's inner love spot, sending sparks of absolute pleasure through his entire body.

He came with a cry that echoed from the walls, and while he was erupting gushes of seed into the nearly non-existent space between their bodies, he curled his legs even tighter around his lover in a highly possessive gesture. Mycroft followed him over the edge while biting down on Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock's passage was flooded with hot fluid, kept inside his body by Mycroft's only slowly decreasing erection which served as a cork.

Sherlock urged him to let himself drop onto his body, his arms firmly closed around Mycroft's neck.

“Mmm,” Mycroft uttered. “That was nice. Our first time as a married couple.”

Of course they were not really married but Sherlock appreciated that Mycroft had been playing along so willingly. “Shame that John wasn’t here.”

“What?” Mycroft raised his head, forcing him to loosen his grip around him a bit.

Sherlock winked at him. “He could have filmed our wedding night sex, too.”

Mycroft groaned and Sherlock grinned. It was so nice to wind his brother up a bit.

There wouldn’t be a long honeymoon. Just a weekend in Paris – with a man as busy as his brother, this had to do, and Sherlock was thoroughly looking forward to it. He wondered if they would see – in disguise – a lot of the city…

“Yes, and your lovely DI could have shot some nice pictures of your come-shot, right?”

“Mm. And maybe Mrs Hudson could have caught the mess that’s now flowing out of my arse.”

“Sherlock!”

“Sorry. I just feel so ridiculously… happy.”

“Oh, well then, go ahead, indulge your naughty fantasies.”

“Oh, I’m planning to, brother, I really am. The night’s not over yet.”

“Dear me. You’re going to wear me out on the first night then?”

“Don’t worry. If you pass out, Angelo will bring some cake.”

Mycroft shook his head, grinning, and they lazily kissed again, not caring about the stickiness that was threatening to glue them together.

All of their friends and their parents had wished them happiness, Sherlock thought. Well, their wish had come true already. He was bloody happy and so was Mycroft, and even if they had to face some difficulties in the coming years, it would be fine. They would weather all storms because they did, in fact, belong together.

Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes - two of a kind.

The End

  
  



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